


Turning the Tables

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [31]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Barebacking, Bondage, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Cock Slut Derek Hale, Creeper Derek Hale, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom/sub Undertones, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Hair-pulling, Hairy Derek Hale, Knotting, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manhandling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 01, Rimming, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Stiles Stilinski Has a Big Dick, Top Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 06:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15944006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek can't hold himself back anymore. After watching Stiles get all sweaty during lacrosse practice, he waits until the boy is alone in the locker room to make his move. Once the deed is done, he finds out that Stiles isn't one to be messed with.





	Turning the Tables

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trix5842](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trix5842/gifts).



> As always, don't judge me for the depravity I have written.

Derek probably shouldn't be doing this, but he just can't help himself. It isn't the first time, either. He stands shadowed beneath the bleachers on the side of the high school lacrosse pitch, his eyes glued to one player in particular as he dashes about on the grass. Stiles Stilinski, the thorn in Derek's side in many ways. He has found the teenager annoying, impetuous and nosy ever since they met each other in the preserve three months ago, and yet, even after they were done fighting for their lives against hunters and a vengeful alpha, Derek hasn't been able to get Stiles out of his head. The reason why is dangerous.

In spite of the aforementioned qualities Stiles possesses that drive Derek up the wall, Stiles is the most alluring male Derek has ever seen.

Especially now.

The werewolf watches intently as Stiles somehow manages to get the ball in his lacrosse stick and begins running for the goal. He is surprisingly agile on his coltish legs, not a hint of his usual clumsiness present, and God help him but Derek finds himself getting hard in his underwear when, after he shoots and misses, Stiles wipes his forehead off on his forearm and Derek gets a good look at the damp patch of jersey material covering his armpit.

Fuck. Derek has never seen anything sexier than Stiles Stilinski all hot and sweaty.

It's wrong. He shouldn't want him. They don't even like each other, and Stiles is only sixteen, so nothing good could possibly come of it. But still, Derek can't make himself stop wanting to shove his dick inside Stiles' virginal asshole and ruin him, to leave him stretched loose and covered in his come.

The image in Derek's head is too good to resist, and in an instant he knows that today is the day—the day he makes the fantasy a reality.

As stealthily as only he can manage, Derek retreats further back into the shadows to wait.

* * *

Half an hour later, lacrosse practice has wound down and Derek watches eagerly as the other members of the team exit the locker room one by one. All the previous times he has spied on Stiles like this mean he knows that his quarry is always the last one to come out, and it's always several minutes after everyone else. Derek isn't sure why. He has listened in using his enhanced hearing and hadn't heard the boy masturbating or anything. But he supposes it doesn't matter. All that matters is that he doesn't have an audience for what he is about to do.

Once Derek only hears Stiles' familiar heartbeat in the locker room, he slips inside and shuts the door quietly behind himself. He slinks toward the heartbeat and peeks out from behind a row of lockers to see Stiles sitting facing away from him on one of the benches, his bag open next to him as he rifles through it for something. He is still dressed in his shorts and jersey and the musk of his sweat is strong in Derek's nose. Derek concentrates on this musk until it blocks out the general stink that always permeates boys' locker rooms, and then he just observes Stiles curiously, waiting to see what he will do.

"Seriously? I know I had it this morning…" the teenager mumbles frustratedly. "Where is it?"

A few moments later he finds what he had lost, and Derek frowns when he sees that it's a half-empty bottle of shower gel. No, he can't have that.

Emerging from his hiding place, Derek doesn't try to walk quietly anymore and is sufficiently satisfied when Stiles startles at his presence, whirling around on the bench so quickly that he nearly throws himself off of it.

"Derek!" Stiles squeaks, dropping the shower gel. "What are you doing here?"

Derek says nothing and just stares heatedly. He licks his lips.

"Uhh…are you okay?" Stiles asks him, standing up and bravely stepping closer. "You're acting weird, even for you."

"I'm fine," the werewolf says with a smirk.

"O-kay then. Still haven't told me why you're here, unless it's just to bask in my awesome presence—which, somehow, I don't think is the case."

"You're right. I'm not here to bask."

"Then why?"

Chuckling darkly, Derek gives Stiles another few seconds to squirm before he pounces. He grabs Stiles and shoves him back against a row of lockers. The metallic clang of the impact echoes around the room. Before Stiles can escape, Derek wraps a hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to hold him in place while not restricting his breathing. Of course, the teenager still struggles against his hold, which Derek thinks is just the cutest thing. As if he could get free.

"Seriously, what the hell?!" Stiles exclaims, breathing heavily.

"I have plans for you," Derek murmurs, leaning in close and speaking the words right into Stiles' ear.

The boy shakes, his musky scent tinged with both fear and arousal. "W-what kind of plans?"

"You're about to find out."

Without another word, Derek steps back and uses his claws to literally tear off Stiles' jersey, leaving his torso bared. The teenager squawks and covers himself up with his skinny arms, but Derek has no patience for that. He grabs Stiles' wrists and pins them over his head so that he can stare freely. He knows his eyes are glowing a constant red now.

"I'm dead. I'm dead, aren't I? Or this is a dream. Did I get knocked out during practice?"

Derek only half-listens to Stiles' babbling. The rest of his attention is focused on cataloguing every inch of Stiles' torso. Every dip and plane of barely developed muscle. Every mole. The exact dusky colour of his pebbled nipples. The patch of hair in the centre of his chest. All of it is perfect, makes Derek's cock leak profusely in his boxer-briefs. And then there's the best part. Smell is a far more important sense to a werewolf than it is to a human. It's what they rely on most and can give a lot away—a person's emotions, their true intentions. But Derek isn't using his nose to discern Stiles' emotions or if there is any deceit in him. Right now, Derek is just smelling him because he wants to.

And he smells heavenly.

Having finished looking at Stiles' chest and stomach, he raises his eyes to the true object of his desire.

Stiles' armpits are delightfully hairy and sweaty, and he just has to get a closer whiff. Now completely ignoring the words that are still falling from Stiles' lips, Derek unceremoniously sticks his nose right in the boy's right pit, making him stop talking out of shock. He feels Stiles fighting him where he still has his wrists restrained up high, but he just squeezes them even tighter and concentrates on the spicy musk filling his nostrils.

Stiles' scent is so pungent here. Derek has smelled it before, of course. It lingers in Stiles' bedroom, likely from the dirty clothes he always leaves all over his floor, and you don't run around together trying to hunt down a crazed alpha werewolf without perspiring a bit. But never has Derek smelled it like this, up close and personal, where he can really take his time and savour it. He rubs his face up and down in Stiles' pit, embedding the sweat in his pores so that he knows he'll still be able to smell it on himself days from now. He even sticks his tongue out and licks a few times over the sweat-damp hairs, the salt that bursts across his taste buds making him moan.

"Okay…I guess this is a thing," Stiles says quietly, no longer fighting.

"Definitely a thing," Derek confirms, his breath ruffling Stiles' armpit hair. "So fucking hot."

"Way to send mixed signals, dude. You could've just asked."

Reluctantly drawing back, Derek rolls his eyes. "Where would be the fun in that?"

"Are you gonna let me go?"

"Not yet."

Before Stiles can speak again, Derek repeats the whole process with his other armpit, making extra sure the stench will stay on his face. With another few licks, he leaves the second one too and decides that it's time for the main event.

He releases Stiles' wrists, but before the teenager can celebrate or try again to escape, Derek throws him facedown on the dirty floor and hikes up his hips. "I think you can guess what's gonna happen now," Derek says, kneeling behind Stiles and palming his ass.

"Uhh…"

"Gonna fuck the shit out of you, until you can't even walk," Derek promises.

Like the jersey, he tears off Stiles' shorts and the underwear beneath, leaving him naked apart from the socks and shoes on his feet.

"Hey! I had to pay for those!"

"Not my problem."

Derek spits on his fingers and isn't gentle as he shoves one right to the hilt inside Stiles' pretty little hole. The teenager cries out at the sudden intrusion, and Derek is certain it can't feel good, especially given that a bit of spit isn't really a good substitute for proper lube. But he hadn't thought to bring some with him, so they'll just have to make do. He thrusts his finger in and out a few times before adding a second, not stopping to ask Stiles if he is ready. He doesn't really care that much. All that matters to him is that he gets his aching dick inside the boy as quickly as possible.

" _Oww_! That hurts, you asshole!" Stiles yells at him over his shoulder.

Derek thinks it can't hurt that much, because he isn't holding the teenager in place. Stiles could easily move away if he wanted to.

Two fingers become three, and that's all the prep Derek has the patience to give Stiles. He undoes his jeans, pulls out his seven-inch cock and spits on his palm to slick himself up. He strokes himself for a few seconds, paying special attention to the glans through his foreskin, before he grabs Stiles' hips and pulls him back onto his cock. The initial penetration is difficult, as Derek knew it would be. Stiles' virginal asshole doesn't seem to want to open up and let the bulbous head of his cock inside, but Derek just takes it as a challenge.

Using his werewolf strength, he holds onto Stiles' hips and forces his way in, not giving a damn when Stiles _does_ try to get away now, practically sobbing that it won't fit.

It _will_ fit. Derek will make it.

With a brutal thrust, Derek sheaths himself to the hilt inside Stiles' body, causing the boy to scream. Derek listens closely in case anyone else heard and comes to investigate, but when he hears no approaching footsteps after a few seconds, he concentrates on how Stiles feels around him. Another moan spills from his mouth because the teenager is as tight as a vice around his thick cock, gripping him perfectly. He grunts as he starts moving, not giving the teenager a chance to adjust to being filled. He is purely chasing his own pleasure. He should probably feel bad that he doesn't care if Stiles gets off during this, but he doesn't. His only goal is to fill the boy with his seed and then, once he has finally expelled this desire for him from his system, he'll leave.

Derek's pace is quick and rough. He keeps his hands around Stiles' hips to hold him in place, his grip forceful enough that he'll leave bruises. The possibility of leaving his mark on Stiles has him fucking the boy even faster, his weighty balls swinging between his thighs and their skin slapping together obscenely. He can feel himself starting to sweat and thinks that he should've probably got naked as well, but…nah, that would've taken too much time. He'll just sneak into an empty house on his way back to the station and nab a shower.

It doesn't take that long for Derek to feel his orgasm approaching. He would be embarrassed about how quickly it comes on, but Stiles' ass feels just that good. And besides, it's been a while since he got laid. He moves his right hand from Stiles' hip and fists it in the hair on the back of his head. He pulls him backward, forcing Stiles' back into a sinuous arch, and leans over him to whisper in his ear.

"Gonna knot you," he says, nibbling on his earlobe.

"That— That's a real thing?" Stiles manages to ask. The words are slightly garbled but Derek understands them anyway.

"Oh yeah, it's real. Gonna split you apart and pump you so full of my come that you're dripping with me for days. Gonna be a good reminder."

As promised, a mere minute later, Derek shoves his cock all the way in Stiles' ass one last time and stays there as his knot forms, the base of his cock swelling into a large ball that locks them together and will keep any of his come from spilling out. Derek has never knotted anyone before. Kate refused to let him—which he is glad about now—and everyone else he slept with back in New York was unaware of his werewolf status, so he didn't dare. It's an overwhelming feeling, makes his orgasm a hundred times more intense than he is used to. His hairy balls draw up between his legs when it begins, his cock jerking wildly in the clutch of Stiles' hole as he shoots deep up in his insides.

Before Derek can stop it, his wolf takes over, shifting him into his beta form. He only just stops himself from sinking his sharp fangs into the vulnerable stretch of skin between Stiles' shoulder and neck, biting instead into his own forearm. While he has basically forced himself on Stiles this afternoon, he knows that Stiles doesn't want to be a werewolf and forcing the bite on someone who so vehemently doesn't want it is a line that Derek _won't_ cross.

He doesn't want to have to deal with the consequence of having an irate Stiles in his pack.

As his orgasm goes on, prolonged by his knot, Derek collapses on top of Stiles, pressing him down into the floor. He rocks his hips lazily, jostling his knot inside Stiles' body as he rides out the waves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Ugh, you're heavy," Stiles complains, shifting uncomfortably beneath him.

Derek smacks his lips and doesn't move. "Deal with it."

For twenty minutes they stay there, Stiles trapped beneath him. A couple of times Derek tenses when the occasional person gets close to the locker room, but none of them actually come in.

When his knot shrinks, Derek finally gets off of Stiles, his softening cock slipping out of his hole. As he'd wanted to happen, Stiles' hole looks amazing, all loose and sloppy with come. Derek runs his finger a couple of times around the rim, fascinated by the sight of his own release leaking slowly out of it, but Stiles rolls away from him with a huff. Derek laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear, does his jeans back up and then turns and walks away.

"What, that's it?" Stiles calls after him.

Derek pauses at the exit and looks back at him over his shoulder. "What else do you want?"

Stiles gets to his feet, his expression incredulous as he clutches his ripped jersey to his crotch. As if Derek cares about seeing his small dick. "Uh, I dunno, an _explanation_?!" the teenager responds.

"I'll pass."

Derek shoots Stiles a smirk before he leaves. He got his.

* * *

Stiles is angry.

Even with thirty hours having passed, his ass twinges as he gets out of his Jeep and walks toward the entrance of the abandoned train station, using the light from his phone to guide him because it's so late in the day. He has just come from the veterinary clinic, where he'd had a very informative talk with Deaton regarding the different breeds of wolfsbane the vet has stored in his cupboards. It was under the pretence of wanting to be better prepared for any more supernatural shenanigans, and Deaton had seemed to believe him. The vet had even been so helpful as to take out the wolfsbane he had and show the jars to Stiles, and when Deaton's back was turned, Stiles stole the one that contained the breed which would best suit his needs.

Those needs all revolve around getting payback on Derek.

Stiles doesn't think he'll ever forget the previous afternoon, when Derek took him right there in the boys' locker room.

The werewolf hadn't even asked, which is the part that Stiles is actually angry about. He would have been all for it if Derek had simply said, "Wanna fuck?" instead of doing what he did. He could've done with some proper lube, and the armpit thing was a bit weird, but he supposes that everyone has their kinks. Yet Derek hadn't asked beforehand or given him any proper warning, and now Stiles needs to make sure the man knows not to mess with him. He is sure that all Derek sees him as is a weak little human who can't possibly be a threat to him.

Stiles grins when he gets down into the station, because tonight Derek is going to find out that him being weak couldn't be further from the truth.

It doesn't take much time to get things ready. He places the thick rope and lube he'd bought on one of the seats in the train car Derek currently calls home, gets the jar of wolfsbane out of his jeans pocket and then sits down to wait. In just a few minutes, Stiles hears the rumble of another car overheard. It's faint because he doesn't have the hearing of a werewolf, but he can just pick up the sound of Derek slamming his door. Then he hears footsteps coming down the stairs and exits the train car to greet the alpha.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" Derek asks him as soon as he sees him. He stands in a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and his leather jacket, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Guess," Stiles responds, slowly walking closer with the wolfsbane hidden behind his back.

"If you wanna talk about what happened yesterday, you can forget about it. It's not gonna happen again, either."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes. Now get out of here."

Derek uncrosses his arms and, as soon as he brushes past him, Stiles tips the wolfsbane onto his palm and says, "No," to get the alpha's attention.

"Stiles, I mean it—"

Derek doesn't get out another word, because Stiles blows the wolfsbane right in his face. The alpha coughs and his eyes flash red, but then the wolfsbane does its job and his eyes roll back in his head as he crumples to the floor like a piece of paper.

* * *

When Derek wakes up, it's slow. His brain is sluggish, his throat burns and his nose and eyes feel scratchy. They aren't things he is used to feeling, so he pushes through the last remnants of sleep and tries to bring his hand up to rub at his eyes, hoping that it will get rid of the scratchy sensation. Only he can't move his arm.

Instantly alert, Derek snaps open his eyes and looks around. He is in his train car, tied on his back across a set of seats with both arms pinned under his body. The rope holding him in place starts just beneath his chest and cross-crosses down his torso, winding around both his body and the seats beneath him. His ass hangs off of the edge of the plastic and his legs are held up at a ninety degree angle, both tied to two poles people would have held onto if they had the misfortune of standing when this train still saw use. And the best part, the part that really makes Derek freak out?

He is naked.

"What the fuck?!" He growls, struggling against the rope. He can't get out of it.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was worried for a second there that I'd gotten the wrong wolfsbane and you'd die or something."

Looking between his spread legs, it all comes crashing back to Derek when he sees Stiles sitting casually on a seat directly across the aisle from him.

"Let me out of this now!" Derek commands.

"Nah, I think I'll wait. I've got to have my fun with you, like you had your fun with me."

Derek suddenly realises just how exposed he is. His legs being positioned how they are, his ass is right in front of Stiles, his cheeks spread, his balls hanging over his perineum and his soft cock resting against the inside of his thigh. Stiles can see _everything_.

"What?" Derek spits, though he thinks he can already guess what Stiles' intentions are.

The teenager gets up and comes to stand right between Dereks' legs, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against Derek's hole. "I think it's only fair. An eye for an eye, as they say."

With those words, Stiles strips down to his underwear. Derek can't help it when some blood rushes into his cock at the display of pale skin, making him half-hard. This doesn't escape Stiles' notice. The teenager laughs and looks from Derek's cock up to his face, his honey-coloured eyes shining with amusement. Derek isn't amused. In spite of his traitorous cock, he is not amused at all.

"Release me," he orders again.

"What was it you said when I asked for an explanation yesterday?"

Derek growls lowly, wondering what the hell Stiles did to the rope to make it so he couldn't just break out of it.

"Oh yeah. You told me 'I'll pass'. Well, how's this? _I'll pass_."

"Why can't I get out of these ropes?"

"Wolfsbane, my dude. Wolfsbane. It'll leave you weakened for a couple hours. Very handy."

"Stiles…"

"Shh, just relax," the teenager says, changing his tone to something that is probably supposed to be soothing. It doesn't work. "Just lie back and enjoy."

* * *

Stiles doesn't know where to begin. After he'd knocked Derek out and spent a lot of time and energy dragging his 200-pound body into the train car, he'd salivated as he got the werewolf out of his clothes. He'd seen Derek shirtless before, of course, but those situations were either life-and-death or he was in the presence of other people, meaning he couldn't really look liked he'd wanted to. Stiles doesn't have that problem now, as he stands over Derek's supine form in just his underwear.

Derek's physique is godlike.

His chest his broad and big, his pecs dusted with dark hair that runs down beneath the rope over his well-defined abs. It meets with the dark pubes that surround his dick, and even more hair runs down over his perineum to surround his tight little hole and cover his round cheeks.

Stiles wants to touch him everywhere, and now that Derek is in no position to stop him, he gives into his desires.

He bends over Derek, putting himself between the alpha's hairy legs, and fits his palms over his pecs. The length of rope which runs just below them pushes the muscles up slightly and makes them appear even bigger. He pinches Derek's nipples, not paying any mind to how Derek continues to growl at him and fights fruitlessly to get free. The werewolf's cock is plumping up even more between his legs, so he can't be that against this. He clearly wanted Stiles yesterday, enough to take him by force, and that want wouldn't have gone away so quickly.

With a final twist of Derek's nipples that has him throwing his head back with a whine, Stiles moves lower. He strokes Derek's cock a few times to coax it to full hardness and then admires it. It's long and thick, pre-come already beading at the slit. No wonder it was so painful when Derek shoved it in Stiles' ass without preamble yesterday.

"You've got a nice cock," he says. He licks once over the head to taste it.

"Stiles!"

"Too bad I'm not gonna touch it again tonight."

With that, Stiles releases him and moves around to Derek's right, standing just inside the gap between the seats Derek is tied to and the next row.

"Y'know, you're about to see something that I've never let anyone else see," Stiles says.

In spite of himself, Derek asks, "And what is that?" He makes sure his tone carries as much attitude as possible.

"After every practice, I always wait for the other guys to shower and leave before I shower myself. Wanna know why?"

Derek glares up at the teenager and rests his head back, the strain of holding it up making his neck ache.

"It's because of this."

Stiles slips his thumbs beneath the waistband of his underwear, pushes them down his legs and stands tall again, letting Derek see what he means.

He grins when Derek's eyes immediately zero in on his cock. It would be hard to miss.

"Impressive, huh?"

Derek's mouth drops open. "Uhh…"

"I'm not embarrassed about it or anything," Stiles keeps talking, "but the staring would get annoying. So I keep it to myself."

'It' is Stiles' cock. Jutting out at a proud length of ten inches, he is _massive_. "I'll tell ya, you have no idea what a pain it is to run around during practice. Feels like everyone can see it floppin' around in my shorts. I would wear a cup, but I'm kinda too big."

After giving Derek a few more seconds to stare, his mouth still hanging open, Stiles returns to his previous spot between the alpha's legs. He gets down on his knees and sits on his heels so that Derek's ass is right in front of his face. "I'm gonna fuck you, but unlike you, I'm actually gonna be nice enough to get you ready for me. I've been fantasising about this ass ever since I met you, and now I'm finally gonna claim it." He rises up a little bit so that he can meet Derek's eyes over the long length of his hairy body. "You ever done this before?" he asks.

Derek shakes his head slowly, his eyes wide and surprisingly vulnerable.

"It's alright," Stiles reassures him, stroking his hands up and down the backs of Derek's thighs. "I'll take good care of you, Sourwolf."

Stiles sits back on his heels again and moves his hands down to Derek's ass, cupping them around both of the alpha's hairy cheeks. Derek's ass is even better than his fantasies. He spreads it apart and leans in close to lick once over Derek's asshole, expecting the reaction he gets. The man jolts atop the seats, at least as much as he is able while tied down so effectively, and his hole clenches up even tighter out of instinct. But Stiles doesn't let this deter him. He licks again and again over Derek's entrance, matting down the dark hairs around it with his spit. He basically makes out with Derek's ass, and soon he feels it begin to unfurl under his ministrations.

Feeling cocky, Stiles points his tongue and wiggles the tip inside. He can't get very far yet, but that doesn't matter to him. He has never done it before, but he already knows that he loves eating ass and he doesn't mind spending a long time down on his knees like this, as long as it takes for Derek's body to open up and let him inside. He could take Derek as roughly as Derek had taken him, but as annoyed as he still is, he is nicer than that, and he doesn't actually want to _hurt_ Derek while he gets his own back. With what he is packing between his legs, even with Derek's werewolf healing it would hurt like a bitch if he just pushed in right now, and he wants the alpha to enjoy this too.

See? Stiles is definitely the nicer one out of the two of them.

For another few minutes the teenager continues to rim Derek, his enthusiasm kicking up a gear when he eventually feels Derek responding to him, giving into the pleasure Stiles is giving him by pushing his ass back onto Stiles' face. The teenager seals his lips around the werewolf's rim and sticks his tongue in deep. At the same time, he sucks hard on the rim and relishes the ensuing high-pitched whine it elicits from Derek. He does it several more times just to make the alpha release more of those amazing sounds, and then, finally, he has enough.

Pulling back and wiping his own spit from around his mouth, Stiles cocks his head to the side and has an idea when he gets a look at Derek's hole.

He rummages in his jeans, which are on the floor of the train car next to him, and pulls out his phone. He has to preserve this moment. He doubts he could ever forget it anyway, but taking a photograph as proof can't hurt, right? Plus, that way, he can look at it whenever he wants, and he'll probably come in three seconds flat because Derek's hole looks just amazing like this, slightly stretched out by Stiles' tongue, the dark hairs around it stuck to tanned skin by Stiles' slowly drying spit.

Yeah, taking some photos sounds like a wonderful idea.

He contemplates putting his phone on silent so that Derek doesn't know, but as Derek had told him yesterday, where would be the fun in that?

A few seconds is all it takes for Stiles to find the perfect framing. He holds the tiny lens as close to Derek's hole as he can get it without the picture going out of focus, and then he taps the screen to capture this moment forever. The artificial sound of a shutter going off is loud in the train car. It makes Derek's whole body tense up, and Stiles smirks to himself as he waits for the inevitable outrage.

"What the hell are you doing?!" the werewolf yells, lifting his head again to glare at Stiles between his legs. "Delete that!"

"Not a chance."

"Stiles! I'm not kidding around here!"

"Relax, Sourwolf, no one else is gonna see it."

"You can't know that for sure."

"I'll encrypt it or something. Besides, if it'll make you feel better, I'll even let you take some of me."

That cuts off any further protests. "You…you will?"

"Yup. Hell, I'll even take some myself and send them to you."

Thinking that Derek is sufficiently appeased, Stiles rises up onto his knees to take another photograph. This time he makes sure to get everything in the shot—Derek's hairy ass, his cock and balls, and his face, still glaring up at him.

"Smile!" Stiles teases. When Derek's expression doesn't change, he takes the photo anyway. "That's a keeper."

Putting his phone down on his jeans, Stiles retrieves the bottle of lube he'd brought with him and makes quick work of stretching Derek's hole out even more. He doesn't stop until he is able to fit all four fingers of one hand inside without it being unbearably tight. Even that might not be enough, but that's all the prep he feels like giving Derek right now. His cock aches and leaks drop after drop of pre-come between his legs, and he has to bury it inside of the werewolf like, yesterday.

"Get ready, Sourwolf," Stiles warns him, slicking himself up. "I'm about to split you apart."

"As if you haven't already…" Derek mumbles. His pretty face is flushed with sweat and a nice pool of pre-come gets bigger where his hard cock lies across his hairy abs.

Stiles huffs and rubs the cut head of his cock teasingly over Derek's hole. "Ready?"

"Would it matter if I said no?"

"You seem to've been enjoying this so far."

Derek rolls his eyes and huffs exasperatedly, but he doesn't deny it.

The first push in goes surprisingly smoothly. Four fingers' worth of prep was at least enough to mean Stiles doesn't meet much resistance. He can tell from the way Derek's brow creases that it isn't without pain or discomfort for him, but Stiles did all he could and Derek's cock never goes soft—and besides, it serves him right.

Unlike Derek, when he is fully seated inside him, Stiles gives him some time to adjust, the vice-like tightness gripping his thick cock gradually slackening until he thinks the werewolf is as ready as he is ever going to be. His eyes still glued to Derek's face, Stiles withdraws just as slowly as he'd pushed in, until just the head of his cock remains inside. Then the process begins all over again. With each thrust the glide gets easier, and then Stiles picks up the pace slightly so that he is fucking Derek in earnest, his hands wrapped around Derek's suspended ankles. Said werewolf has his head thrown back and pants softly every time Stiles sinks in to the hilt, his cock leaking even more pre-come to add to the pool on his stomach.

Releasing one of Derek's ankles, Stiles swipes his fingers through the mess and smears it across Derek's chest, rubbing the clear fluid into the dark hairs covering his pecs. This gets the alpha to tilt his head back down to look at Stiles, but he doesn't say a single word to discourage him.

After he is satisfied with the way Derek's chest looks all slicked up, Stiles disregards what he'd said earlier and wraps his hand around the alpha's cock, which is as hard as steel.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" he enquires.

"Go screw yourself," Derek gasps out.

"Nah, I'm busy screwing you right now. But maybe you can screw me again later."

The suggestion makes Derek moan, and then Stiles is delighted to feel Derek resisting the rope again, but not to get free. Instead, Stiles just knows that Derek wants to move with him, wants to shove his ass back to meet his thrusts.

"Yeah, you _definitely_ love this. Look at you: big bad alpha all trussed up like a present, panting as he takes a big cock up his ass like a bitch. Is that what you are, Sourwolf? A bitch?"

"F-fuck you."

With a breathless laugh, Stiles starts stroking Derek in time with his thrusts.

"Stiles…"

"You getting close?" the teenager asks.

Derek nods jerkily. "Yeah."

Smug, Stiles redoubles his efforts, angling his thrusts to hit Derek's prostate with more frequency. He pulls back Derek's foreskin and rubs his thumb in circles over the glans, knowing from experience how good it feels. When the werewolf's hole tightens up around him he knows that Derek is about to shoot, so he rubs his thumb even harder to get him there. A few seconds later, Derek's orgasm hits. He paints his torso with his own release, adding a thick layer of off-white seed over the pre-come that has already dried on his chest.

Derek clenching around him sets off Stiles' orgasm as well. He thrusts a few more times as it overcomes him and then he stops, suddenly too sensitive.

"Damn, that was good," he gasps, pulling his softening cock out of Derek's body.

The alpha just grunts.

Stiles catches his breath and raises his gaze to Derek's hole, his eyes widening slightly when he sees how wide it is stretched. He can actually see up inside, can see his pretty pink walls slathered with his come. It's unbelievable, and he has to get another photo of this before Derek's werewolf healing kicks in and his hole tightens back up.

Once that is done, Stiles dresses himself, slides his phone back in his pocket and turns to leave.

"Hey! What about me?!" Derek yells after him.

Stiles chuckles. "I'm not gonna untie you."

"What?!"

"Your strength'll come back in a few hours and then you can get yourself out of it."

With nothing else to say, Stiles leaves the train car and the station altogether, his dick twitching in his underwear at the thought of Derek being forced to lie there with Stiles' come dripping out of him.

* * *

Later that night, Stiles awakens from a light sleep to the sensation of his bedsheets being slowly pulled off of his body, leaving him in just his boxer shorts. When he peers through the darkness and sees two red eyes staring at him, he turns onto his back and spreads his legs. His mouth stretches into a grin when Derek climbs on top of him and he feels skin on skin.

_Here we go again._

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to say a huge thank you to trix5842 for giving me this prompt. I hope the result was everything you wanted it to be. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this, switching up the power dynamics between Stiles and Derek as they kept each other on their toes. I particularly loved writing Stiles' reciprocation and the idea of him keeping photos of Derek's fucked-out hole... Too hot for words. For anyone who is curious about what happens after this PWP ends, let's all assume that our boys take turns fucking each other over and over until—of course—they fall madly in love with each other. But they'll never lose their snark. ;)
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, which will be a sequel to a previous PWP of mine called [_The Prettiest Alpha_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604452). In it, Stiles will help Derek further explore his need to submit.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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